


Sometimes a Fantasy

by lizwontcry



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, Yep this is about phone sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 07:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30119364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: Jesse needs a distraction from everything he did and saw in Mexico, and Walt provides him with some of that hotline bling.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Sometimes a Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place kind of mid-way through 4x11, Crawl Space.

The motel room is bathed in an eerie glow; a greenish tint from the lit up sign off the highway. It kind of reminds him of those meth-fueled days with Wendy in her place back in the day. Jesse wonders what she’s doing right now, if she’s as lonely as he is in this Texas shithole.

This is just another random thought in an entire string of them; Jesse’s trying to think about anything other than the fact that he just added two more people to his list of dead dudes. Just a year ago he didn’t even know how to use a gun. Three guys. Jesse has shot and killed three people. He’s really starting to wonder how he’s ever going to come back from this. Or if he even deserves to. 

The loud shrill of Jesse’s cell phone ringing startles him out of his stupor. He’s both confused and completely unsurprised when he sees the name on the caller ID.

Jesse doesn’t answer at first. He knows Walt will just call again and he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of picking up on the first attempt.

Just like he predicted, the phone rings again two minutes later. He answers it but doesn’t respond. Let Walt work for it.

“Jesse? Are you there?” Walt sounds… well, he sounds kind of nuts, actually.

“Yeah.” Jesse tries to sound bored and unamused. The truth is, he’s actually sort of relieved to hear Walt’s voice. Even though their partnership is on thin ice these days, he can at least still count on Walt to sort of care about his well-being, even if it’s in his own personal self-interest to do so. 

“Oh. Good. I was… well. It doesn’t matter. How are you?”

“Like you give a shit,” Jesse mutters. He picks up his lighter and tosses it in the air a few times. Anything for a distraction.

“That’s the thing, Jesse. I _do_ care. I’ve been worried sick. _Where_ are you, can you at least tell me that?”

Jesse sighs. He doesn’t want to give this prick _anything_. But Mike is stuck in Mexico recovering from the gunshot wound and Gus won’t stop giving him the business about running the lab by himself and right now, Walt is the only friendly voice he has. As pathetic as that may be. Jesse’s constantly toeing the line of hating this man with every fiber of his being while also looking to him to save Jesse from the mess he’s gotten himself into yet again. It’s exhausting.

“El Paso. Gus’ guys are coming tomorrow to take us back to the ABQ.”

His feet are sore from the six silent miles he walked behind Gus. It's the longest he's walked, well, ever. Physical education has never exactly been Jesse's jam.

Walt exhales, and if Jesse didn’t know any better, he’d think it was from relief.

“Well… that’s good. Very good, then.”

There’s an alarmingly long pause; Jesse is determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible.

Walt breaks the silence. “Jesse, I called because--”

“96.2 percent,” Jesse blurts out. 

“Excuse me?” 

“96.2 percent,” Jesse says again. “You put a bug on my car. You refused to help me. You said that I was gonna screw up and wind up dead, yo. You don’t know how fucked up it was over there, Mr. White. The cartel, they--they’re not dudes who will _let_ you screw up. And you know what I did? I made a batch with 96.2 percent purity. So no, I didn’t wind up in a barrel and I proved myself. I proved myself to all of them and I don’t need you anymore. I never needed you and I definitely don’t need you now.”

God, he’s trying so hard to sound like he means it, but he’s fighting back tears and he knows Walt can see right through him. So stupid.

Walt sighs. “Oh, Jesse… I owe you an apology. I’ve been a disaster for months now, and I realized that yesterday when I had a heart to heart with my son. He’s seen me in pretty bad shape, and I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed of how he looks at me lately. And that made me realize… how terribly I’ve treated you. Bugging your car, refusing to help you, the things I said… well, I’m sorry, Jesse. The situation with Gus has frightened me more than I can fathom and I took it out on you. You don’t deserve it. You’re right--with everything you’ve done for me… you’re invaluable to me, Jesse. And I’m sorry.”

Jesse is truly gobsmacked. Has Walt ever apologized to him for _anything_? Sincerely? He tries not to let it get to him; he tries not to believe him, but he’s losing that battle. So after another nerve-wracking pause, he changes the subject.

“Gus wants you dead, yo. I’m trying my best to convince him to just let you go but… I’m not sure he’s going to listen to me.”

“I know, Jesse. I appreciate you trying to help me--I don’t deserve that.”

“Whatever,” Jesse says petulantly.

“Well. We’ll deal with it when you get back, I suppose. Good night, Jesse. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jesse can’t let it end like this. There’s so many things he needs to say--to get off his chest--but he knows Walt is about to hang up, and he feels a little frantic about it. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts now. He _can’t_ be alone. 

“Mr. White. Wait. Can we… do it again?”

“Do what again?” Walt says automatically.

“You know… _it._ ” It’s the only way he can think of to both keep Walt on the phone, and to keep himself from going back to obsessing over what he doesn’t want to obsess over.

“ _Oh._ I--I don’t know, Jesse, do you really want to?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

He really wants to.

*****

It happened one other time.

Skinny and Badger had been hanging out at Jesse’s house, and they were all so drunk they could barely see straight. After they left, Jesse decided it was the perfect time to jerk off. He was half-hard with his hand down his pants, picturing some faceless girl with nice tits and plump red lips. Walt called when he was in the middle of an intricate fantasy involving a bathtub and a spatula, and for some reason, Jesse answered the phone. Walt only wanted to remind Jesse to be at the lab earlier than usual the following Monday for some bullshit reason or another, and Jesse muttered his agreement. He just wanted to get off the phone--he just wanted to get off in general, actually. And there was something about Walt’s stern, familiar voice that was doing something to Jesse in his already aroused state.

“Yo, Mr. White… what are you wearing right now?” Jesse had asked. He knew the question was absurd; he knew Walt had no patience for his dumb antics. And yet still he asked.

He heard Walt sigh. “I’m wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. I was about to go to bed. What does it matter, Jesse?”

“That’s hot,” Jesse said. “Are your glasses on or off?”

“They’re off… I see that you are clearly inebriated in some kind of way, so why don’t we end this ridiculous phone call so you can drink some water and sleep it off?”

But Walt didn’t hang up. And neither did Jesse.

“Mr. White… I’m touching myself right now,” Jesse groaned. “What do you think of that?”

“I don’t think much of it, to tell you the truth,” Walt said, but his voice was… different. Like he was intrigued or something. 

“Yeah, I was only just sorta hard when you called but your voice got me all the way there. I’m jacking off, yo. Yeah, my hand is on my dick and--”

“Jesse, this is not--why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to do it, too. And I want you to tell me about it.”

Jesse had fully been expecting Walt to hang up, but he didn’t. 

After a moment of silence, Walt said, “Fine. I’m… touching myself, too. What now, Jesse? What’s the big plan now?”

Jesse didn’t have a plan. But they made it work anyway.

*****

Walt doesn’t know where to begin. The situation changed so quickly, his head is spinning. But he senses this is what Jesse needs right now, and he’s feeling generous.

“Okay, well… what are you doing now, Jesse? Is your hand…

“Yeah. My hand… ” Jesse says. “Are you…”

“Yes,” Walt says. His hand is on his cock, thinking about Jesse touching himself. How hard he must be. Walt is too busy trying to figure a way out of the mess they’re in most of the time, but every now and then when he closes his eyes, he hears Jesse’s vulnerable voice; he hears Jesse calling out to him, wanting him to say words Walt has literally never said in his life. 

Needless to say, he’s already hard, too. 

“How does it feel in your hand, Jesse? Describe it to me,” Walt murmurs. It’s unbelievable, really. He barely recognizes himself. 

“It’s… so hard. And it’s so warm. And it’s, like, throbbing or whatever?”

“Mm-hmm. Good. Good job, Jesse. That’s excellent,” Walt says. He’s always sort of known that Jesse thrives when Walt praises him for something. It happens so infrequently that Walt doesn’t miss Jesse’s proud grin when it does.

“Yeah… yeah, Mr. White. Yeah, it’s hard. And you know what I’d want you to do if you were here right now?”

Walt groans a little, because that’s not something they covered last time. It was mostly focused on themselves and not what they would do together. Needless to say, he’s kind of intrigued now.

“What, Jesse? Tell me.”

“I want you to blow me,” Jesse says. He’s practically panting now. “I want to feel your lips on my dick, Mr. White.” 

Walt makes a noise that sounds like a hybrid between a moan and a gasp. He can’t say he’s ever pictured himself doing that, to _anyone_ much less Jesse, but if that’s what he wants…

“Yeah? Where are we when I’m doing that, Jesse? Are we in bed?”

“No, we’re---we’re in… we’re in your classroom,” Jesse says. “I’m sitting at your desk. You’re on your knees.”

“Oh, that’s--that’s nice, Jesse. That’s good.” Walt needs to slow down, take a deep breath, decrease the pressure on his dick a little. Because if Jesse keeps talking like _that, _this will all be over too soon.__

__“And… and you keep sucking me off, and I’m fucking your mouth, and after a few minutes I blow my load in your mouth and you like it. You like it, Mr. White.”_ _

__“Yes… yes, I suppose I do like it,” Walt breathes. “I like… to swallow… your ejaculation.”_ _

__Jesse giggles through his heavy breathing. “God, you’re such a teacher, yo.”_ _

__“Yeah, I am. Do you like that, Jesse? Do you like it when I teach you things?”_ _

____

*****

“Yeah… I like it,” Jesse moans. “Fuck, Mr. White. What… what would you do to me? What would you teach me?”

He’s stroking himself harder now, but in the way he knows won’t make him come just yet. He’s enjoying this too much. Who knew all it took for Walt to be a real person with him was the promise of an orgasm?

“What would I do to you--oh, well, first of all we’re in a bed. Your bed. Do you like that, Jesse? We’re naked in your bed.”

“Yeah… yeah, I like that.” Jesse closes his eyes, trying to picture it. The light is off in Jesse’s bedroom, and they can’t see each other. Walt takes both of their pants off, and touches Jesse softly at first…

But Walt has other plans, apparently.

“I… I spank your ass, Jesse. I take you over my knee in bed and I spank you. Hard. Hard enough for you to yell at me to stop.”

 _What?!_ More importantly, _why_ does this turn Jesse on so fucking much?

“Jesus, Mr. White, that’s some kinky shit…”

“But you like it. I know you like it, Jesse.”

“Maybe,” Jesse says. “What happens after that?”

“Don’t rush it--think about it. My hand on your ass, smacking it hard. Making it red. It will hurt when you sit down for a few days. You need discipline, Jesse. You need to learn.”

“Fuck you,” Jesse breathes, but he’s panting again, and he’s close. He’s too close. “What. Happens. Next.”

“Next, I push you on your back onto the bed, and you squirm and groan because your ass is tender. And then I bite your lip, and stick my tongue in your mouth while my hand is on your pulsing dick.”

How in the hell is he coming up with this shit? Jesse wants to laugh but he’s too busy trying not to come yet. 

“Fuck, Mr. White… have you ever talked like this before?”

“No. Only with you. I’m… I’m close, Jesse. What do you want now? Tell me what you want.”

“I want… you to fuck me,” Jesse admits. He’s literally never even thought about that until this exact moment, but now it’s all he wants. He closes his eyes and pictures it. Walt in this eerie green motel room, kissing Jesse hard, one rough, calloused hand on Jesse’s needy cock. And then he gets out the lube from the drawer, and…

“I want that, too. I want to feel what it’s like to be deep inside of you. Biting your lip while I fuck you so hard you want to scream. Do you want that, Jesse?”

“Yes… yes, I want that,” Jesse groans. “Do _you_ want that?”

“Yes, I do. I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”

“Mr. White…” He’s not exactly screaming it, but he’s coming; he’s coming so hard that he can almost feel himself forget about everything for just a minute. Just one peaceful minute where he can pretend this is real life, and that he didn’t watch so many people die right in front of him, like he doesn’t have to sit with Gus in a car tomorrow and convince him once again to spare Walt’s life. 

He forgets. For just a moment.

Walt makes some kind of fucked up sound that Jesse didn’t know a human could make and he knows Walt is done, too. And now… now everything comes rushing back and he has to deal with the fact that he just got off his former chemistry teacher on the phone.

“Well. That was… interesting. Thank you, Jesse. It’s late, I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Wait. Mr. White. What are we gonna do about all of this? I mean… shit’s fucked up.”

Walt sighs. “I know, Jesse. Things are not… ideal. But I will find a way to get us out of this situation. I won’t let them hurt you. You know that, right?”

Jesse doesn’t know how that’s possible, but fuck, he wants to believe him. “Yeah. I know that.”

“Okay. Sleep well, Jesse. Good night.”

“Mr. White… do you really want to smack my ass until it’s raw?” Jesse can’t help but ask, a smirk on his bruised and battered face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Walt says uncharacteristically, and then hangs up. 

Jesse chuckles and tries to go to sleep. But he’s too haunted by the bad memories to close his eyes.

_I didn't want to do it but I got too lonely  
I had to call you up in the middle of the night  
I know it's awful hard to try to make love long distance  
But I really needed stimulation  
Though it was only my imagination_

_It's just a fantasy  
It's not the real thing  
It's just a fantasy  
It's not the real thing  
But sometimes a fantasy  
Is all you need_

* Sometimes a Fantasy - Billy Joel *

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy Bryan Cranston reading Hotline Bling in honor of this story - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBPB82Et3vQ&t=5s
> 
> Thanks for reading and rock on; Kudos and feedback are always appreciated (and desired).


End file.
